Defying Gravity (8th yr Drarry Animagus Drabble)
by shilo1364
Summary: Rumor has it that McGonagall has a special project for the eighth year transfiguration students. Rumor has it that Pansy Parkinson is especially fond of eclairs. Rumor has it that Draco Malfoy is especially fond of Potter... Written for the drarry drabble prompt for Week 2: animagus drarry


_**A/N: This was written for Drarry Drabble Prompt Week 2: Animagus Drarry**_

Pansy settled into her seat, crossing her legs daintily and giving Blaise's arm a good shove in the process. His arm, which had been propping up his head, slipped off the desk, and he very nearly face planted into his books.

"Salazar, woman. What's your problem?"

"Your elbow was encroaching on my workspace."

Blaise shook his head. "Women," he muttered. Then he snorted, turning away again.

Pansy craned her neck to see over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Finnegan was just telling a joke."

"Vulgar?"

"Supremely."

"Ugh." She tapped her nails on the desk. "How do you stand them?"

"Who? The Gryffindors?" Blaise grinned at her, a flash of white teeth against dark skin. "They're all right. Did you hear the rumors?"

"That we're going to get some secret assignment this term? Bo-ring."

"I dunno, could be—"

"Ahem." McGonagall stood, rapping the surface of her desk sharply. The room fell silent as the eighth-years all turned to look expectantly at her. "I suppose you've all heard the rumors? Excellent. You will indeed spend the majority of this term on this project, and should you succeed it will gain you an extra point on your NEWTS."

Hermione straightened in her chair, eyes sparkling, and Pansy rolled her eyes. Typical.

"I want you all to pay very close attention," McGonagall said briskly. "Mister Weasley — close the door, if you will. Thank you. Now. Very few students attempt this transformation, traditionally. Even fewer successfully complete it. I hope at least one of you manages it." She clapped her hands. "Now, tell me. Who here knows the process by which one becomes an animagus?"

Pansy gasped slightly. Did she really expect them to become animagi?

An elbow dug into her side, and she turned to glare at Blaise. "What do you want to bet she's just tired of Draco and Potter bickering and wants a month of peace and quiet?"

Pansy snorted. "That is… a distinct possibility. Are you going to try?"

"For now." He shrugged. "A lot can happen in a month."

"You can't expect us to keep these bloody leaves in our mouths for a whole month!"

"It's extra-credit, Mister Finnegan. Think of it as a chance to prove your mettle."

Blaise grinned. "Definitely just a plot to shut us up." He picked up his leaf, studying it, then stared around at the silent classroom. The mutters had died as leaves were placed under tongues. "Well blow me — it's working."

"I'd rather not." Pansy plucked her leaf from the desktop and placed it into her mouth as if it were the finest delicacy.

"The leaf goes in your mouth, Mister Zabini."

Blaise rolled his eyes and stuck it under his tongue, making a face. "Tathts like—"

"Silence, Mister Zabini."

* * *

The students quickly discovered that holding a leaf in your mouth for any length of time at all is actually rather annoying. Most gave up within a few days — at the end of the week, there were only a handful left. Writing everything on slates and parchment was just too much trouble, and the distant promise of being able to transform into an animal wasn't enticing enough to motivate them.

Granger was one of the last to give in, spitting her leaf out indignantly with a shout of "Ronald!" that was so loud the echoes of it seemed to bounce around the stones of the common room and ring in Pansy's ears. She grimaced.

 _I can't believe no one else has figured out that they can communicate this way._

Blaise shrugged one shoulder, not bothering to look up from his book. **_Well, it's not like they had Severus for a Head of House, even if some of them are capable of it. I don't think any of the rest had legilimency or occlumancy lessons._**

 _Still. You'd think they'd have noticed that we're still in the game._

 ** _To be honest, darling, I doubt most of them notice us at all._**

 _I can't decide whether you meant that to be depressing or sly._

 ** _You know, I don't know. Both, maybe._**

 _Hmm. Who else is left, now that Granger has so dramatically excluded herself?_

Blaise put a slim finger in his book, marking his place, and then looked around the room. **_Just us, I think. Wait — no. Draco. And it looks like Potter, too._**

 _I should have known. It's been so quiet without their constant haranguing._

He snorted. **_True. Have you been able to get through to Draco?_**

 _No, and it's a bit worrying to be honest. Did the Dark Lord do some permanent damage and he just hasn't let on? I've never had a problem getting through to him before._

 ** _I wouldn't worry about it. He's probably just too busy glaring at Potter to realize the rest of the world exists._**

She sighed. Well at least some things never change.

* * *

 _Oh, no. No no no._

 ** _What is it?_**

 _They're serving eclairs today._

 ** _So don't look at the dessert plate. I'll order you a dozen of them from that patisserie you like as soon as this ridiculous ordeal is over._**

 _You know, I don't particularly care to be an animagus._

 ** _No?_**

 _No. Right now I would much prefer an eclair. Shall we?_

 ** _Oh, all right._**

Together, they plucked the leaves from under their tongues, wiped their fingers daintily on the white linen napkins, and then Blaise served each of them an eclair.

"For you, my sweet."

"Thank you, darling."

They spent a few moments silently chewing, and then Pansy frowned over at Draco, who hadn't moved to touch the desert plate. "Odd, that he's willing to pass up dessert for this. And eclairs, too. Did Draco ever mention that he wanted to be an animagus?"

"Nope." Blaise speared another eclair, studying Draco as he did so. Then he grinned and gestured with his fork. "There's his motivation."

Pansy looked across the table, to where Potter was also forgoing the dessert plate, locked in what appeared to be a staring contest with Draco. "Oh." Then she straightened. "Oh! I bet they're using our trick to communicate!"

Blaise's eyes sharpened. "Now _that_ is both very interesting and a bet I am unwilling to make."

"Severus wouldn't have taught Potter how to do that, would he? I know he was teaching him—"

"Nah. Potter barely learned anything from him. Didn't you listen to Severus' rants?"

She snorted. "Not really. I heard rather enough ranting about Potter from Draco. It's a nice change, the quiet. You don't think — you don't think Draco taught him?" She frowned down at her plate, idly swirling her fork through a puddle of escaped custard.

"Are you kidding? Where would either of them find the patience for that? No, Pansy, love, I"m afraid this is just one more thing the bloody chosen prat can do without trying."

"Just look at them."

"I'd rather not, actually. It's ruining my appetite. Who'd have thought our Draco was such a sap?"

She elbowed him lightly. "You knew he was a sap."

"True. I just didn't know he was a sap for Potter. Though I suppose I should have guessed. Ah well. We all have our flaws."

Pansy patted her lips delicately with her napkin as she rose from the table. "Speak for yourself, darling."

* * *

McGonagall rapped her desk, drawing their attention once more to the front of the room. "So. How many of you have managed to keep your leaves in your mouths for the entire month?"

Only Draco and Potter raised their hands.

"Well, then. Let's see what your animagus forms are, shall we? I'd like the rest of you to contemplate the experience, and then write me a short essay — let's say five inches — describing your experience, and what temptation finally wore down your discipline."

Blaise turned to Pansy, laughter in his eyes, as they whispered together, "eclairs."

* * *

They were dragons. Of course they were bloody dragons. Pansy stared up at the pair of them — the glossy black Hungarian Horntail and the shiny, coppery Peruvian Vipertooth — as they flew in acrobatic loops, seemingly daring one another to go faster, higher, and then began spiraling in the air around one another, the sunlight gleaming on their scales.

"Well," Blaise said softly, staring up at them, a look of wonder in his eyes. "It's not everyday you get to see a dragon courtship ritual."

"Is that— Are they—" but of course they were. She leaned her head on Blaise's shoulder, silently shaking with laughter. Of _bloody_ course they were. She shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun, blinking black spots from her vision, and stared up at the two winged shapes dancing across the sky.

"And we thought they were insufferable before."

~The end~


End file.
